Trouble in a Green Paradise
by SilverRain4
Summary: Sequel to Under a Dark Blue Sky. MA. Two lovers have been ripped apart by fate, leaving a cause without a leader, and a leader without hope.
1. Mourning Air

Hello everyone!  Welcome to the fourth and final installment of this series.  I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed my first three stories, I am just eight reviews short of the hundred mark on my last story (hint, hint).  This first chapter starts out slow and sad, but I swear on my typing fingers that it will pick up by chapter three.  I'm sorry that the story is so delayed, but I'm in finals, and also a gorgeous blue-eyed boy asked me a courtin and put a huge anti-angst smile on my face.  Thank you everyone for your support.  Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:  I do not own Dark Angel, that belongs to Cameron Eglee.**

**Recap:  Please read the first three stories first, for the plot twists and turns mightily.  At the end of Under a Dark Blue Sky, Max gets pregnant, everyone gets a tropical vacation that takes a deadly turn, the hostages are rescued at a high cost, and oh yeah and a dead body is found and causes much crying and carrying on.**

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"How long has she been like that?"  Joshua shakes his head softly at Kate and tugs her out of the room.  I guess it isn't polite for them to talk about my condition in front of me.  I dip my left forefinger into a green paint cup and dot the color smoothly along the lower edge of the painting.  Josh thought it might be therapeutic for me to try painting, to do something other than sit there and stare at the walls.

It's been two short days since we've flown back from the island, a couple of days which have lasted an eternity.  Noises grate on my nerves, infuriate me.  I don't understand how the world goes on outside when it should have come crashing down with him.  How can the children be playing on the dirty green outside, how can others be laughing and talking, I don't understand how the sun can even shine in the mornings.

The funeral is tomorrow.  Joshua broke the news to me in his own half-stuttering, half-apologetic puppy voice that somehow wasn't comforting enough for once.  My skin feels flayed and swollen from the crying, and now I have a new reason for anger because this morning the tears dried up and all I've been able to produce are sickly, wrenching, dry sobs.  I wish in vain for great storm clouds to come rolling over the sky and torrential downpours to wash the earth, but it seems that the sky too has dried up.

"You have a visitor Max."  Kate's voice is back to the same firmly reassuring tone that it carried before, not like it was in the moment she told me to say goodbye.  I force myself to look up at them, resenting the intrusion on my solitude.

"Thanks."  My voice doesn't sound usual at all.  It rasps like the hinges of an unused door, and breaks at the edges like frayed flesh.  Red, the painting needs more red in it, like a raw cut.  I dip two fingers in the red paint and begin smearing it in large trails across the center of the canvas.

"Don't you want to know who it is Max?"  She knows that she's taking a risk prodding at me, that I'll probably turn my back on her and return to the painting.  Unfortunately she doesn't seem inclined to leave me alone until I show some sign of interest.  Drying my hands slowly on a towel I swivel the low stool so that I'm looking at Kate and Joshua.

"Hey Boo.  You ain't got time for an old girl?"  Cindy looks smaller than I remember, allowing Sketchy the liberty of having his arm around her shoulders.  The goofball's face looks grimmer than usual, his face rigidly set and his eyes downcast.  I don't remember standing up from the seat, but the next thing I know I'm engulfed in a tangle of arms and bushy hair, mostly Sketchy's, and tears stream down my face, suddenly released again from the font of my eyes.

"I couldn't stop it, oh my god, I wasn't even there when it happened."

"It's gonna be okay Boo, we here for you, gonna be okay."

"I never even told him about the baby.  I was so stupid, I thought I had all the time in the world, and he didn't get to know about his daughter just because I was to scared to say anything."

"He loved you girl, that's more than most of us be having in this life.  You got to have a love of your life that loved you back, and cared about you, and would have given anything to see to it that you alright now after he ain't here to protect you."

"I'm really sorry Max."  Seeing the sincerity in Sketchy's eyes which is usually missing in his day to day screw ups, just makes me bawl even harder.  "When Normal heard the news he closed up the business for the day, I haven't seen him look this bad since Seattle went Democrat."  He surprises a strangled laugh out of me which results in strong waves of nausea roiling up from my stomach.  Every day the baby makes its presence known.  It connects somewhere deep inside of me, like a lifeline to something that has been lost.

"Let the girl sit down fool, super soldiers in a family way still got to get their rest."  They each take me by the arm and guide me to one of Joshua's dilapidated couches in the corner.

"I don't know if I can do this O.C., not without him, not by myself."  She gently strokes the lank strands of hair off my forehead and takes both of my hands in hers.

"You being silly girl.  You sure as hell ain't alone in this.  Not only have you got me and this fool, but you got dog boy and CeCe and Kate, and a whole lot of other people waiting to help you."


	2. An Ocean Away

This is hell, I'm pretty sure.  I've been standing here for more than an hour listening to everyone's fondest recollections of the person I'm least fond of in this world.  I really think that my ears might be about to start bleeding, but that would mean that I wouldn't be able to hear anymore and then my suffering would end.  I should be so lucky.

Add to that I haven't been able to get anywhere near my quarry, Max is being guarded tighter than Tutankhamen's treasure, and she probably doesn't realize it.  Every time I've made a move within twenty feet of her another damn transgenic has come up to shake my hand and thank me for coming.  All the while Mole and Kate are sending these little smirks in my direction that I would dearly love to blast off of their faces, but we all know that I don't stand a chance in hell, exoskeleton or not.

"Thank you all for sharing your touching words of support with us today.  I think I speak for every one of us when I say that our movement has lost a great leader, and that we have all felt the deep loss of a personal friend.  If you would all join me in a moment of silence in Alec's memory."  I take this opportunity while everyone has their heads bowed down to creep a few inches closer to Max for a better view.

She still looks radiant beneath the tearstained puffiness, her hair spilling like raven's wings to cover the delicate oval of her face.  I don't often have the opportunity of seeing her in a dress and I soak in the way that it softens her curves.  She holds her hands demurely over her stomach, and the black of her clothing pales her skin to a light shade of gold.

"Mr. Cale."  So rapt am I in the contemplation of my once love that I completely miss the approach of the weedy teenage girl at my shoulder.

"Elizabeth wasn't it?  How pleasant to see you under, uhm, more pleasant  circumstances."  I wince inwardly at my didactic wording, but my full attention is otherwise occupied and this little chit of a thing is hardly worth my notice.

"Well I felt that it was my duty to attend.  After all, that poor boy lost his life helping to rescue me.  I know that I didn't speak with him much, but it seems like such a shame that he died and left such a pretty young wife behind."  She smiles up at me with guileless brown eyes like a big veal calf's.

"She isn't his wife.  I mean she wasn't his wife."  I blurt the words out quickly without giving them much thought.  The little twinge of a smile works its way up to her mouth.

"Well I guess that it doesn't really matter when you truly love someone.  I'm sure she still feels her loss very keenly."  The brash little thing is daring me to challenge her, she knows that there was something between myself and Max once.  My irritation jumps to the fore.

"You surely aren't here by yourself are you?  This is an awfully dangerous place for a little girl."  Let her stew on that implied threat for a while.  It doesn't seem to affect her much though.

"I was accompanied by my mother.  She said that she had a few things to discuss with Miss Guevara.  I can only assume that it pertains to the death of her uh, paramour."  A meeting with the senator eh?  Max wouldn't let me in on the first one, but there's no one to stop me from being a fly on the wall during the second meeting.

"Let me escort you to the drink tent Ms. Elizabeth."  I turn on my charm to nine and offer the little girl my hand with a smile.  After a moment's hesitation she accepts the invitation and we head off in the same direction that Max went.  Let them try to stop me from getting close this time, they'll have to bash the girl out of the way too.

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**_Back on the _****_island_****_ of _****_Cano Pelour_****_…_**

I storm up the stairs two at a time, my incandescent fury propelling me through the midday crowds.  My doctor's coat billows and flows around my knees adding bulk to my thin frame.  I take only a small pleasure for once in the fact that people are all but flinging themselves over the abutment to get out of my way.

I have incontrovertible proof this time of Steven's screw ups, and I will not fail to get him kicked out of the enclave once and for all.  The twenty flights of stairs barely affect my heart and lungs and I know with pride that I am the strongest of Father's children.  Now if only Father will listen to reason and get rid of that raving idiot, my life might just be perfect.

Last flight of stairs, sun pours down on me now because I've finally reached the top level where Father's study, and the greenhouses reside.  This is the only portion of the compound that reaches near the above ground.  Taking a moment to quell my impatience, I take a few deep breaths before pounding loudly on the study door.  A small click signals that Father has unlocked the door, and shoving the insubstantial piece of wood aside I storm into the office.

"What seems to be the problem Corri?"  Father's voice is as gravely and soothing as always but it will not calm me today.

"That idiot, that flaming imbecile.  He took the wrong person, and I think he may have done a great harm."  Father gives me a measured and considering look, the grave lines of his face crinkling in an almost internal smile.

"What has Steven done to upset you my dear?"  He knows that it's Steven, but that's nothing new.  Steven has been a thorn in my side for years.

"He took a young man during the war between the drones and the other's who came to fight Pardidos."  Father holds up his forefinger and I fall instantly silent, damn training.

"This should not be news to you Corri.  I told everyone that I planned on taking one of the strangers.  As unkind as that may have been, it is an unfortunate necessity if I am to save you and all of my children from Pardidos' hand."  I lean closer to Father, balancing my hands on the old wooden desk.

"But you don't understand.  Steven did something horrible.  Not only did he remove one of the clone specimens from my care, but he may have caused great damage.  The poor boy he took has been mated, very recently at that."  A small thrill of triumph fills my stomach as Father frowns deeply.  This time I win.


	3. Tell My Ma

This is going to be one hell of an interview, of that I'm sure.  I still remember what it felt like to lose Andy, even though I'm separated from the pain by more than a decade.  The unreality of it all still infects my mind like a hot whisper of doubt.  Many mornings I've woken up and reached out to the pillow beside me expecting cheerfully to find Andy's comfortable bulk to be there hogging the blankets.  Other mornings I wake up knowing that I won't find him laying next to me ever again.  There won't be any more kisses, or arguments, or sunsets to watch with him.  And now I'm in many ways responsible for inflicting the same pain on another woman, all because I wanted closure for my own dead husband.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on this occasion Ms. Guevara."  She keeps her eyes neutrally on the bruised desk in front of her, her dark hair falling across her brow.  "I know this isn't the most fortuitous circumstance for me to ask for a meeting with you."  Her eyes flit up to my face and she carefully searches the ebbs and planes of it.

"Please Senator I need to get back outside.  What can I do for you?"  I can hear every hour that she hasn't slept in the gravel of her voice.  She wants to escape, but she doesn't know what she's escaping from, or where she's escaping to.

"I know what it's like you know.  Nearly a decade ago I lost my own husband Andy, and it still frightens me.  Some mornings when I wake up I roll over and expect to find his head on the pillow beside mine, but there isn't anyone there.  Other times I wake up knowing that I won't find him beside me, ever again.  It never really leaves you, but it does become easier as time passes by."  Her eyes remain dull, neutrally unimpressed.

"Thank you for your concern."  She wants me to leave her alone but I know that it isn't always best to leave a woman alone with her thoughts, not always.

"Please Ms. Guevara, Max, please listen to me for a minute.  I pushed her away when she was born, my little baby Elizabeth.  The moment she was old enough I shipped her off to boarding school in England, and saw her a few times a year on holidays.  I was never there to talk her through her first crush or her problems at school.  I sent her away because I couldn't bear to look at her and see Andrew's eyes staring back at me.  I know that I don't have any right to expect you to listen to me, but please for the sake of your child, don't shut her out of your life."  Her face freezes like ashen marble and she gives me a look as impenetrable as glacial ice.

"Is that all?"  I mentally prepare myself for what I'm about to do.

"It is my fault partially for what happened on that island.  All that I wanted was closure for myself and instead it nearly lost me my daughter.  Consider your service to me ended.   I consider it a privilege to continue to champion the transgenic cause.  If any of your people wish to remain in my employ I will gladly keep them on at board wages.  You are free Ms. Guevara.  I hope that you use the time to get to know your child."

When I finally look up from the desk, Max has risen from her chair and is about to leave through the door.  The flawless impassivity of her face gives nothing away, but I know that I've gotten through to her.  As she leaves, so faintly that I almost could have imagined it, I see her shoulders begin to shake.

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With a pent up sigh of long suffering, I strip off the ridiculously uncomfortable black high heeled shoes and throw them behind my desk.  I will never forgive Naia for convincing me to wear the stupid things.

Now comes the worst part of this day, the autopsy.  I've heard that in the outside world, autopsies are performed before the funeral, but I thought it wiser to wait until after the mourners have said their goodbyes.  The procedures which Manticore follows are much more invasive than those carried out by a regular doctor.

"Jack!  Jack stop playing with the scanning resolution and get your butt over here."  Ever since that boy met little Miss English School Girl his head has been a mile high in the clouds.  At the moment I need his head on the ground.  He isn't going to like helping me in this task, he used to hero worship Alec just as many of the other young boys did.  Still that's what Manticore was all about, doing the things you'd rather not do.

Chastened slightly, Jack walks into my office and waits with unnatural patience for my instructions.  "I've already laid out your surgical kit Ma'am."  His voice breaks a little bit at the end of the sentence and I take pity on his youth.

"I'll do all of the heavy work Jack, I just need you to run the tape recorder and manage the lights.  After we're done I'll let you have the afternoon off and you can go visit with Elizabeth before she and her mother leave."  His eyes brighten for a moment but then flare out again, I find it comforting rather than disturbing that he cares so much for his compatriots.  "Now go scrub in while I get started."  He nods and runs out of the room.  Meanwhile I turn to the task at hand.

Slow and clinically detached, that's the only way I'll get through this.  I flick on the overhead light and turn my head away as I pull back the sheet.  I know that I saw the body at the funeral but seeing him laid out on a cold slab is different, more chilling.

Jack comes back into the room holding his scrupulously clean hands out for inspection.  I nod them over and then hand him the tape recorder, which he flicks on with unfortunately practiced ease.

"Subject X-5- 494, age 22 years, height 1.83 meters, weight 72.58 kilos."  The process begins to relax my shot nerves as I quantify the person that I knew into a series of numbers that have no face.

First I need to perform an inspection of the outer surface of the body.  There are various bruises and contusions that I associate with several weeks of fighting and running.  Max had mentioned before we went chasing him to the island that many of his wounds had been healing at an unusually slow rate and I should check them now to see if I can find the cause.

I flip open the chart at the end of the slab which has his neatly kept medical records to find the exact location of the bullet and knife wounds.  I move my hands to his lower abdomen where the most recent knife contusion was.  The skin is smooth as marble in that way that only death can achieve, a state that makes previous wounds stand out brighter against the flesh.

The wound is gone.  Not healed because even a transgenic would have a patch of the pinky raw new flesh that replaces an injury, but gone as if it had never been there.  My breath quickens slightly as I move on to the upper arm but the bullet injury is also completely gone.

"Kate?  What's wrong, you don't look so good maybe you should sit down."  Jack is suddenly at my elbow guiding me into a chair in the outer room.  The idea is ludicrous, but no stranger than many of the things that I've seen in my short albeit adventurous life.  There's only one way for me to be sure.

"Jack I need you to warm up the MRI and PET scanners for me.  No questions please just do as I ask."  Jack's mouth snaps shut and whatever comments on my sanity that he had planned on making remain unspoken.  In the meantime I need to go through the disks which Dix recovered from Manticore and find Alec's older medical records.

It's possible that his transgenic healing had miraculously healed over the injuries of battle of the past few weeks, but I know one place to look for conclusive evidence.  The wounds left by psy-ops leave marks on the brain which don't ever mend.


	4. Red is the Rose

Hello everyone.  Thanks for bearing with my strange update schedule as I spent a week in the Midwest on spring break.  It was fun, there were grad schools to look at and outhouses to tip, sigh.  Anyway I've got a pretty light load this quarter so look forward to more frequent updates.  In other news I own neither Romeo and Juliet, or Othello, although I once played Miranda at this pretty little outdoor theatre…  On a side note, by decree of me the chapter titles have an traditional Irish tunes theme, all you caeli dancers and Eirie lovers send in your requests.

Remember it's always happily ever after.  Even if the road is a long and winding one.

M/A fan:  That would make a pretty interesting plotline but I think its going to head in another direction.  Just wait and see.

ACB:  Right on, got to get those crazy kids back together somehow, although it is going to be a Very bumpy ride.

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"It's all wrong."  I point triumphantly at the cerebral hemisphere currently displayed on a gently flickering old light board.  Jack is practically bouncing up and down behind me having eschewed spending time with Elizabeth for a chance at sitting in on this meeting.

"We're not all doctors here Kate, your going to have to explain things a little more clearly to us."  As always Dix face is calm and serious, even in light of my obvious excitement.

"Use syllables of one word, some of us are only grunts."  I want to make a snappy retort to Mole, but my news is burgeoning out of me, aching to be told.

"You see the brain tissue in this PET scan?  All normal and healthy, full of naturally existing pathways that haven't been tampered with.  Now when Manticore dragged a soldier down to psy-ops they use a number of invasive procedures on the cerebral cortex where memory and advanced thinking pathways are stored.  They rewrite neural circuits and often lesion whole ganglia in order to alter undesirable behaviors."  A nervous tension seizes the room as they each slowly grasp what I'm saying.

"Alec was in psy-ops a total of three times for extended stays during his years as a soldier.  To double check the results of the scans which I took Naia here offered to have her brain examined and you can see her images on the left."  Mole begins to snicker.

"I always knew you had brain damage.  Ouch, damn it that hurt."  Naia's foot rests suspiciously still on the floor next to Mole's chair.

"The point is that you can see the remaining traumas left to Naia's cerebral hemisphere.  Given their similar ages and genetic make-ups, Alec should display similar, if not much more severe damage."  A small hand juts out over my chair.

"And there isn't any trauma at all on that scan.  In fact the neural pathways are as raw and unformed as a person a quarter of Alec's age."  I don't have the heart to yell at Jack because my excitement has practically risen to match his.  I've come to care deeply about both Alec and our fearless leader and more than anything, I want my fairytale ending.

"Due to the unusually high levels of pleuripotent stem cells circulating in the transgenic system it is impossible to guess our ages by tradition cell culture methods.  However, I think the evidence in front of you speaks for itself.  Whoever this unfortunate boy is, he wasn't Alec."  Mole is the only person whose face remains darkly troubled.

"But who is the boy?  And how do we find Alec."  Naia coughs at the other end of the table and raises her hand.

"I think you all are missing the most important issue.  How the hell are we going to break the news to Max?"

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My head pounds like a pair of bongo drums have taken up residence behind my ears.  Gently reaching out with my senses I take in a small portion of the air.  I can feel the salty sea air moisture of the coast, a scent which is tempered by the mustiness of a molding basement and the antithetical odor of ethyl alcohol and disinfectant spray.

Now for the difficult part I gently wiggle my right big toe.  Much to my satisfaction I feel the appendage rub lightly against the rough cool material of a bed sheet.  My feet and hands also seen to respond to commands so I'll assume that most of my important bits are in working order.  Slowly I lift my swollen eyelids, but am forced to snap them shut immediately as the light blinds me and the world tilts at an alarming angle.  I focus on my breathing, bringing the deep heaving inspirations back under control.  Take two, I gently cup my hands over my eyes and then cautiously open them again so that the light filters softly through my fingers.  

I have an immediate gut aversion to the blurry grey of the room without knowing why.  Beyond the sickly blandness of the room I'm lying in a hospital bed in a narrow room, bare except for several monitors and a few cabinets.  The slow exertion of my explorations pulls a muscle in my chest and I wince sharply as a pain lances through my upper body.  Cautiously moving my hands upwards I find my chest and abdomen swathed in bandages.  Below the thick gauze of the dressing I can make out a nasty looking knife wound on my lower stomach that looks to be several weeks old.  A wave of uncontrollable panic washes over me as I realize that I can't remember where the injury came from.

In fact, there isn't a single detail that I can remember.  I know what hospitals are, how to disassemble an M-16 assault rifle, how to do the tango, and which imported beers are the most refreshing after a long day.  The rest is a yawning blank, a black abyss waiting to swallow me.  I can't control my breath any longer and paroxysms of hyperventilation grip my body.  The lack of oxygen starts one of the machines hooked to my arm beeping in a most alarming way.  A petite redhead comes storming into the room and expertly checks the machinery and my blood pressure before finally turning to me.

"Nice to see that you're finally awake.  You gave me quite the scare there for a while."  I watch the thin girl warily.  Logically her attire marks her as a doctor and I seem to have a deep and inexplicable dislike for people in white coats.  Well since I don't know who I am or where I am, I don't have much of a reason to keep my silence.

"May I have some water please?"  My voice comes out in a harsh rasp, dry and sore from disuse.  I rub my fingers across my throat and feel a few days worth of growth beneath my fingers.  Wherever I am, I've been unconscious for a while.

"So you do speak then.  I see from your mark of birth that you are designated 494, do you also have a name in common vernacular?"  A name, do I have a name?  I have a misty impression of a conversation held long ago that went something like this.  Another girl made of the same tough as nails fabric laughing in my face, but just as soon as the flash appears it drifts away again, just out of my grasp.  I feel a prickle on the back of my neck and I realize that the girl is still staring at me.

"What is your designation?"  I will answer her question with my own question.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  She is using the line as bait, fishing through my memory to test my education, my knowledge.

"When you shall speak of these unlucky deeds relate, speak of me as I am nothing extenuate nor set down aught in malice."  Her eyes glitter with amusement.

"Then you are a fellow who deserves my kindness?"  I don't like being baited.  A fellow can only take so much of it when he can't remember a good reason why he should even be listening in the first place.

"I deserve kindness from someone who won't even give me their name.  Especially when you have the distinct advantage in being fully dressed at the moment."  Having finished a full self examination I've come to realize that I'm starkers underneath this sheet.

"My name is Corri, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I think we'll get along just fine.  I always did love a smart alec."  I feel a curious pull of longing in my chest without exactly knowing why.  Suddenly I home, wherever that may be, seems very far away.


	5. A Boy Unknown

"Do you like it?"  Corri has the expression of a hopeful puppy waiting to be thrown a bone, and somehow I don't have the heart to tell her what I really think of the small dark set of rooms that I've been assigned.  I settle for a gently neutral tone.

"Why aren't there any windows?"  For that matter I haven't seen a single window in this whole place, not in the infirmary or any of the many long and winding hallways she's lead me through.

"We're underground at the moment.  Actually the entire compound is underground for safety's sake.  It is a sign of the highest favor to be given living quarters so far up in the dwelling.  We are only about thirty feet beneath the earth right now, very close to Father."  I wonder vaguely if she's referring to her own father or some biblical figure but I don't ask, religion being one of those touchy subjects which you shouldn't discuss with strangers and potential nutcases.  Instead I try to look suitably impressed at the honor which has been bestowed upon me.  I twitch uncomfortably as my stomach lets out a particularly loud growl.

"Is there any chance of getting some food?  Or better yet, getting some food and meeting some of the other people who live in this compound?"  She looks around nervously at the suggestion and then seems to pull herself up a little taller as though she has come to the decision that whatever problems there might be she's more than equal to the task of coping with them.

"You'll probably be allowed to eat in the cafeteria with the rest of us.  The others might be wary of you, we tend to be rather xenophobic, but you are my guest and more importantly you are Father's guest so no one will dare make confront you.  Perhaps you might like to get changed into more suitable clothing before we go out?"  She smirks a little and her eyes flit down the length of my body making me acutely aware of the fact that all I'm wearing is a medical gown.  "You'll find clean clothing in the bureau drawer.  They are as close to your size as I could estimate, from you uhm, well they're just close."

"Thank you Corri, you're being very generous to me."  It occurs to me, not for the first time that Corri hasn't seen fit to actually tell me what I'm doing in an underground hideout with a ton of cuts and bruises and no memory.  Some deep instinct tells me not to push my luck until I've secured food, clothing, and a good night's sleep first.

"I'll wait out in the hall for you while you get changed and then I will show you the way to the cafeteria."  Nodding her head politely Corri turns on her heel and shuts the door behind herself, leaving me alone in my small impersonal quarters.  My hearing pricks softly counting the number of steps she takes, four, once she leaves.  Something tells me that normal people shouldn't be able to hear so well.

 I find a full length mirror when I open the wardrobe door and as I strip off my hospital gown I take the opportunity to make a better survey of my body.  I'm not totally displeased with what I find, an even six feet tall or so, slimly but muscularly built, I'd guess my age at between twenty and twenty five years of age.  There aren't any lines on my face but the development of my bone structure seems to be complete.  I run my fingers through overlong dirty-blond locks of hair and note with satisfaction that I don't seem to be losing any of it.  The eyes staring back from the mirror are a dark hazel and surrounded by bruise-like circles that tell me I haven't gotten enough sleep lately, despite my enforced three or four day nap.  Now for the interesting part, I examine the many half-healed cuts and bruises lining my body.  Two of them, one on my arm and one on my leg are concurrent with .45 caliber bullet wounds, and a large cut across my stomach appears to have been made my a large sharp bladed knife.

The most fascinating of the contusions though are the ones across the left side of my abdomen.  Five deep gouges run in parallel and have to have been made by human fingernails.  I also get an odd feeling as I run my fingers over them, as though I'm missing something important and it's imperative that I find this thing immediately.  In fact the gouge marks itch quite badly and it takes all of my self control not to scratch at them.  

A small cough on the other side of the door tells me that I'm taking a suspiciously long time to get changed and that my escort is becoming impatient.  I pull the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe open and pull out a pair of dark gray open ankle sweatpants and white boxers, and from the hangers above it I pull down a plain white t-shirt.  The clothing is drab but nothing that I can't live with, in fact it seems at once comfortingly and disturbingly familiar.

I must be becoming paranoid in my old age, as I worry about the feeling of déjà vu the cuts and colors of the clothes give me, but when you have no memory you need to cling to the little things.  Quickly I pull the pants and shirt on and hurry out to meet Corri.

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I sit in my office in the least dilapidated building in Terminal City, and listen with variable attention to the meeting going on in the conference room outside. My knees are pulled up to my chin and I sit sideways in the old executives chair with all of its wheels missing.

They've just told me the news, or rather Joshua and Kate have just at once shattered and rebuilt my world.  I don't know what to think of it.  The sense of giddy excitement that I'd first felt has been replaced with a sense of deep dread that this dead body will just be replaced by another one, a real one.  Now my feelings bob violently up and down like a life raft lost on a stormy sea.

I reach my hand up absently to scratch at the barely healed marks on my stomach, but as I touch the five parallel marks a strange feeling of warmth rushes over my body and I stop and simply rest my hand there.

The sense comes to my mind like a whisper.  A hint of his smell surrounds me, familiar but tainted by a faint clinical odor rather than enhanced by leather and Old Spice.  Then the fear and confusion blanket me, suffocating me, before a rigid control seizes then and pushes them down.  Beneath it all I feel him, love, anger, uncertainty hidden by bravery, duty circumvented by a growing sense of right.  He's hurt and frightened and blown as far from himself as can be, but I'm not worried anymore.

He's alive, I can feel it now.  I know where to find him but it's going to be the biggest bitch of all to get him back.  Lucky for him that he's worth it.  And lucky for me that I can be the biggest bitch of all.


	6. A World Turned Upside Down

I'm sitting in a beaten overstuffed arm chair in our apartment.  It's the first time that I've back to the little haven that we share since we'd found the body.  The place hasn't suffered for neglect.  Hard as it is to remember I only left it six weeks ago, and yet so much has happened in that short time.  I examine my arms and legs and am happy to discover that the pervasive thinness which had infested them is finally gone.  Now that I know that he's still alive my appetite has returned with a vengeance.

Also returning angrily is my impatience.  Alec is somewhere out there, probably still rotting away on some tropical island hiding from a huge posse of bad guys, and I'm stuck in Terminal City with no way to find him. 

In the last three weeks four major cities have been struck down by forces unknown, completely decimated by some kind of high powered bomb.  No one is sure whether we're being hit by terrorists or another country.  It's as if fate is thumbing its nose at me screaming that I'll never get him back.  The country, dilapidated as it is, has been completely shut down.  No travel past sector checkpoints, and especially no air traffic.  Alec is somewhere out there and I have no way to get to him.

On top of everything else I'm expecting the phone call soon.  Senator Burnhart has been a particularly patient lady in keeping up her end of the bargain and not harassing me, but as the widespread destruction continues outside I'm sure that she won't be able to resist for long.  I'm not sure what my answer will be when she does call.  Glad as I am to be rid of her I can't help thinking that someone with so much power might be able to get me out of the country even in this heightened security state.

The possibilities fill my mind with restless urgency, the beginnings of a tension headache pounding at the back of my skull.  Yet I feel more alive than I have in ages.  His presence is a constant whisper at the back of my mind now, always with me.  The baby fills the rest of my space, or the thought of her does.  I know that she was the little dark haired girl from my vision.  A warrior, a friend, a life yet to come into this world, but somehow preordained by fate.  The phone rings with tinny urgency.  A glance at the watch around my wrist tells me that it's Kate calling to check up on me.

"Hello Max, how's my favorite patient on this fine afternoon?"  Her voice soothes the furious impatience in me like a warm drink or a belt of scotch.

"I'm fine Kate, or I would be fine if I knew what the heck was going on out there."  I wince involuntarily at the edge to my tone.  This isn't Kate's fault, I shouldn't be taking my mood out on her.  I make an effort to control my voice.  "Is there any news?"  Please god let there be some news. 

"I'm sorry Max, we've got Dix hacking every government connection he can, and Mole milking every military contact that he's made but I'm afraid that none of us have come any closer to figuring it out.  Has the senator called you yet?"  I can feel her raising her eyebrow at me through the phone and I wince at the reproach. 

"You know that once I call the senator there won't be any going back.  I'll owe her favors again and I don't think that I can escape from her hold twice."  Kate is silent on the other end of the line, I can barely hear her breathing.

"You don't know that for certain."  The tension in Kate's voice tells me that she's lying.  She knows the consequences of calling Burnhart just as well as I do.

"I won't put my people at a disadvantage to that woman again without a damn good reason.  If there's any other way to get him back, I'll find it first."

"Ask us then Max!  Let me call a conference and you ask any of us what we're willing to give up.  What we'd do not only to get Alec back but to find out what the hell is going on in this country."  The outburst leaves me speechless, I'm not sure that I've ever heard Kate raise her voice before.  "You are our leader.  We wouldn't have it any other way.  Stop being so uncertain of yourself and you'll know what's right."

"Call a meeting of all the division heads for 0800 tomorrow.  In the meantime I want Dix and Mole to reshuffle all of their priorities to finding out what the dear Senator Burnhart has been up to.  Tomorrow we're going to decide once and for all what action our people will take in this crisis."  I can feel the release of tension on the other end of the line.

"Yes ma'am." 

"Do you think they'll get behind me Kate?"  Her low chuckle soothes like butter on a burn.

"I don't think that'll be a problem.  But I'll tell you what, I'm behind you hell or high water."

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"What are the latest reports?" 

"We've wiped out Atlanta, Birmingham, Raleigh, and Charleston.  Our forces will move Southwest next week towards Texas.  The death toll has risen over 3 million.  We have interim governments in place in each of the cities that we've hit, the remaining citizens are firmly under marshal law, and the radiowave damper has cut off all communications with the outside."

"How are we coming with the thermal scanners?"

"There have been some glitches in the resonance imaging but our scientists expect to have it hammered out by Tuesday.  We'll have every single loose transgenic in America rounded up within the month.


	7. When Sick is it Tea You Want

_"Max?" I leap cool as a cat over the side of a building and land on all fours on the fire escape. "Maxie, can you hear me?" The familiar damp cold wraps around me with chill certainty. She isn't here. There isn't anybody here. The silence is nearly too much, but I hold onto the knowledge that she's out there somewhere waiting for me; whoever, she is._

"Hey John? John wake up." The dull tinny thudding of Corri banging on the door to my quarters wakes me out of my dream and I go from a sensation of cold sweat to one of overripeness. This island seems to stay at a pretty regular temperature of fry an egg on your head, even a few stories under the ground. "John? Can you hear me?" Corri has decided that in absence of knowing my name that she'll call me John, for John Doe. She thinks that it's terribly clever, but I don't feel very much like a John. The name from my dream comes back to me and I hold onto it tightly.

I throw on a t-shirt to go with the sweatpants that I wore to bed and open my door to admit the impatient girl on the other side. "God you're not still lying around, are you? You've probably missed breakfast in the mess hall by now, we all eat like pirrhanas." There must be something in my face because Corri pauses and looks me up and down. "You've remembered something haven't you? I can tell by the look in your eyes."

"Just a name, in my dreams. I don't even know if it's really from my past or not. It seemed pretty familiar to me though." Corri smiles at me, excited.

"Do you think it's the girl that marked you? I bet she's wild with looking for you by now." I shake my head slowly. "Well I won't pry at you anyhow, it's your business I suppose. Anyway I'm supposed to come and bring you up to see Father." The change in topic doesn't fool me, she's still got a shrewd interest in finding out what and how much I've remembered. "You'd better get changed though. Wouldn't due to go see him looking and smelling like that. I'll just wait outside for a few minutes."

Ten minutes later and a good deal fresher I find myself being ushered into Father's rooms.

"Please son, sit down." The study smells of cedar and dusty tomes, a fire in the left corner keeps it almost unpleasantly warm. In the mottled dimness of the room I can make out quite clearly the form of an aging and slightly bent old man. His hair has grown long around his ears and bushes out in fluff of snowy white around a face of wrinkled parchment. He smiles gently as I enter the room causing his wrinkles to grow wrinkles, and his eyes to glow with an odd light. At his suggestion I sit gingerly in an ancient looking green upholstered wingback chair. "Would you care for something to drink, perhaps some coffee or tea? I've just received some lovely oolong from a colleague in Singha." His voice is a rich baritone that seems to fill the room and it fills me with an odd sensation of deja vue, not that I can be certain but I feel that I must have met this man before.

"No thank you sir, I've just grabbed a snack in the dining hall." I don't know why I feel the need to be so polite to this guy, not when I get the distinct feeling that social conventions have never meant a great deal to me. Somehow, there is an air about this dowdy old man that commands respect, as though he can see right through a person. I shake my head to recover my footing as the old guy smiles at me. He presses in a button on the intercom on his desk and waits a moment until the faint sounds of static fill my ears.

"Nora dear, please bring up a nice pot of oolong and a plate of those delightful ginger cookies of yours that I've been smelling baking all morning." A maternal giggle twitters on the other end of the speaker before the device shuts off with a click. "I know you've just had some breakfast dear boy, but I have found in my long life that there is always room for cookies." This geezer's breezy pedantic speeches are starting to get on my nerves, at this rate I'm never going to find out anything from him. As if sensing my building irritation, the old man leans forward and places his elbows conspiratorily on his desk. "I know you are losing your patience with me, but I ask you to bear with an old man's ramblings."

Something in his gentle tone of voice and easy manner make me ashamed of my building annoyance and I force myself to relax and sit back in the chair. "I just had a few questions to ask you Sir, about this island and the compound that we're currently sitting in." I'm interrupted by a gentle knock on the door, as a large woman in her sixties floats into the room bearing an overladen tray that sets my barely filled stomach rumbling.

"No need to stand on ceremony Son, you must be hungry, dig in." The old man pours a steaming cup of aromatic tea from a silver service and sets a dainty willowware teacup and saucer in front of me. Without many manners I pick up a warm ginger cookie and pop it in my mouth. It's pure ambrosia. "Now where were we?" He smiles and takes a sip of his own tea. "I imagine that in your current condition, you're just bursting with questions. The fact is, that some of these questions I can lay to rest, the others you must discover answers to on your own. But where to begin. My name is Aloysius Hubble, and I was once one of the finest genetic scientists in America. It was myself and a colleague named Sandeman who finally broke the redundancy problem of human cloning, however, I'm sure this means little to you. Myself and Sandeman were recruited by the a branch of the U.S. government to work on a project known as Manticore, a project which would see the development and perfection of the human species."

I can feel something clicking in my head, as though painful bright images are flashing in my eyes through a projector on LSD, snow, blood, children in gray sweats standing at attention, and a blank white room that makes me feel unbearably trapped. It is this claustrophobic feeling of being trapped that forces the images in my mind to a sudden stop, halting the flow of my memories, forcing them to fade quickly back into the unreachable recesses of my consciousness. I look darkly at Hubble, "tell me more about Manticore."

"You're beginning to remember aren't you? That's okay it will take time for the memories to fight there way back to the surface. I wasn't at a part of the Manticore project when you were born. I had been moved to the Ouroboros project, but Sandeman remained in contact with me while he continued to oversee the project. Over the next few years he began to tell me of alarming circumstances. The army was abusing our creations, the government wanted ever stricter control over the project, and he kept hinting about a war coming, one which he would not be able to stop. It was at that time that I met a man named Pardidos. Our first meeting was nothing special, he wrote to me claiming to be a friend of Sandeman's and a deep admirer of our work. I admit that my vanity overcame any caution I felt in meeting the man, so I agreed to meet him for a civilized dinner and some conversation. His knowledge of my subject was frankly quite stunning and I had no doubts about his legitimacy. I agreed to have him to my home for supper the next night, and that's when he struck. He drugged my food, made copies of my finger and retinal prints and a topographical scan of my face, and with these he broke into my lab and stole wholesale all of my precious notes and research. At that point I knew two things for certain, if the government found out how I had been duped I would be put to death, and I could not leave my precious research in the hands of an imposter."

I lean forward to scrutinize him more closely. "I know that project Manticore involved genetic engineering, but what was the focus of project Ouroboros?"

"It's all in the name Son. When Pardidos robbed me I was a hair's breadth away from finding the secrets of immortal life."


End file.
